


baby love me (cause i'm playing on the radio)

by scumfucklesbian



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: (and serenades his future husband), Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - Radio, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Professional Bisexual Disaster Adam Parrish, Radio Host Ronan Lynch, Slow Burn, adam sings !!, adam works at Nino's, au where they both fall in love with each other's voices, over describing adam's accent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-10-10 13:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20528489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumfucklesbian/pseuds/scumfucklesbian
Summary: “Looks like we have our first and only caller for the night, fucking delighted to have you on air with us, Mr Insomnia. Did you know on average a normal functioning human being needs seven hours of beauty sleep?”There’s an amused lilt to the host’s voice which made Adam feel irrational in the best ways, his tired ribcage closing in on itself like moth wings. He lays his phone on the floor and presses his ear to the receiver, as if that allowed him to hear the host clearer, hear him closer, enveloping himself in that soft tone.“You’re one to talk, you’re awake too”“You must be new on this show, we never sleep during the witching hour”(Adam accidentally tunes into a mythology and paranormal radio show at 3 am, he also accidentally falls in love with the voice behind it)





	1. Chapter 1

Adam hears the radio show for the first time by accident during one of his night shifts at Boyd's auto body shop. 

Henrietta flickered like a broken streetlamp on the world map, the tiny town clouded by sleep as her residents retired for the night. Adam Parrish was one of four Aglionby students still awake at 3 am, the rest of the notorious raven boys had gotten bored of their substances and parties hour ago. It was really only three buildings in all of Henrietta that had their lights on at 3 am that lonely Thursday night. The first a gas station as old as Adam was just before the highway, the second was an ancient building along the roadside filled with a circus of insomniacs, the third was Boyd's Auto Body Shop, eerie and cryptic as it illuminated its surrounding nothingness of dried grass and cracked sidewalks.

In the heart of the gasoline fortress was miserable Adam Parrish, desperately blinking his eyes open and fighting his constant war against exhaustion and burn out until his old bones ached and creaked, and his joints complained in agony with every move his body made. He never listens to their begging, only tightening bolt after bolt like a machine. He was a miracle of a barely living thing.

Some asshole had wrecked his mitsubishi evo for the third time this month and Adam was the unfortunate underaged and underpaid employee tasked with putting the scraps together. He was exhausted to his bone, he had classes the next morning in four hours and his shitty thrift store stereo was nothing but static, disrupting his usual channel.

He liked his mechanic job, or at least he prefered it over his other two jobs, one at the factory he wasn't legally allowed to work at and the other a living nightmare in the customer service industry. He liked the routine of it, the steady rhythm as he shifted tool to tool by memory. He liked putting together the wreckage of teenage recklessness despite how much he complained about restless Aglionby boys and their deep pockets who thought mechanical repairs were barely a dip in their trust funds. He liked that he could fix something he couldn't do for himself.

His routine was familiar, it was _safe_. 

But rewiring fried accelerators at 3 am when the entire neighbourhood stayed eerily silent left Adam alone with nothing but his noisy head, too many thoughts irritating him at once like summer mosquitos sinking their disease into his skin deep enough he couldn't scratch it away. The self-doubt that managed to creep in like ivy vines an itch that came with turning off his thinking. Routine was welcomed but it had its costs.

That's why he loved the radio that currently balanced dangerously on the top of his toolbox so much.

It was a shitty little thing, red like cola cans left out in the rain to rust. Its shiny paint was slowly peeling away and its knobs were too stubborn to turn sometimes. Persephone, the woman who always brought him extra pie when she ate at Nino's during his shift, gave it to him without a word. Adam hadn't believed his co-worker when she told him her whole family were psychics but if Blue's aunt was anything like the rest of the women at 300 Fox Way then she must've been telling the truth.

It was stupid and irrational but Adam always thought the shitty radio was a little like him, difficult and a little broken in the gears but still functional. 

He would never tell anyone this of course.

Said radio cuts off midway of The Cure's _ Lullaby, _ the nostalgic channel that played nothing but 80s alternative suddenly stopped crooning its haunting tune into the empty garage. Adam frowned and glared at the radio as if that was enough to fix it, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his coveralls, stained with grease and ending up on his forehead. With a sigh, he tinkered with the metal shit box, hitting it repeatedly with his palm and twisting the knob until it crackled back to life.

By the time the radio decided to reincarnate, the channel that was playing was definitely not the alternative channel he kept on default, never bothering to explore any other radio shows outside of his orbit of whiny vocals and depressing guitar solos. Instead, a jazz tune played briefly before a voice that sounded like barb wire and desert rain filled up the atmosphere of the barren auto body shop. Adam’s throat goes dry.

"_ Welcome back to Glendower Radio, your least favourite radio show at the ass crack of dawn for all things mythological and spooky. Daddy Richard's out of town but it’s not like anyone's listening at this shitty hour anyways _"

Adam stared stunned at the radio in his fingers, surprised by the crass language of the host and his low voice sounding just slightly more dirtier than his words. There was something about that voice that made Adam want to listen on, wrapping him up and crashing into him like violent sea waves. He curled his hands tightly into fists, watching the vein on his arm budge out, before loosely letting go all that tension in his body, convulsing and possessing.

Adam swallowed dryly and sat down on the garage's concrete, placing the small radio next to his hearing right ear.

"_ Today listeners, consider me your shitty uncle you never wanted to hear from anyways because I'll be your substitute host, sorry to disappoint everyone listening just for Dick's sexy teacher voice _ " Adam found himself smiling stupidly as the host kept rambling on, imagining the undoubtedly teenage boy on the other side of the static, just as sleepless as Adam was, probably talking into some shitty radio sound system in his messy bedroom, " _ Since I'm not a weirdo who gets hard-ons for dead Welsh kings, tonight’s segment will just be me reading off the wiki page for the poltergeist movie _"

Adam thinks he’s joking. He was horribly mistaken.

“_ Poltergeist is a 1982 American supernatural horror film directed by Tobe Hooper and starring JoBeth Williams, Craig T. Nelson, Heather O’Rouke and Beatrice Straight. Set in a California suburb, the plot focuses on a family whose home is invaded by malevolent ghosts that abduct their younger daughter, and the family's attempts to bring her back into the real world. _”

Adam furrows his eyebrows further together as the host kept going, obviously not kidding when he said he was going to read the entire wikipedia page like a mad man. It became like a melodic lullaby after a while, a hum of background noise, soothing and gentle enough that Adam went back to work after the initial surprise all while the host kept going, adding his own stupid comments the longer he read on.

When the voice on the radio was done reading the ridiculously long article, he played a horrible sound that barely had comprehensible lyrics. Adam jolted from his spot under the white mitsubishi and bumps his head against the bottom of the car, cringing long after the awful song ended. The magic spell that had Adam mesmerised by a smooth voice had broken and shattered horribly, leaving him with a little throbbing on his forehead.

“_ Squash one, squash two ladies and gentlemen.” _ Adam groaned, too exhausted to continue anyways on changing the busted engine and laid on the cool ground of the repair shop, cheekbone pressed on the floor, “ _ Anyways, someone should call in and save me from dying from boredom or else I’m gonna read the wiki page for Shrek (2001) _”

Then the host listed a string of numbers Adam hastily scrawled on the back of his hand with a shitty ballpoint pen in his pocket.

He dials the numbers into his keypad with shaky fingers before any rational thought gets to him, the rings coming from his nokia’s speaker haunting the empty garage and finally waking him from his trance created by the radio host. His cheeks get warm from embarrassment and he was just about to hang up before an irritating handsome voice enters directly into his ear on the third ring.

“I beg of you to stop,” Adam said flatly even though his lips were curling upwards, not that the assholish radio host would ever know. It’s strange to hear his own voice echoing from the radio but he persists with talking to the awfully charming radio host he’s been entertained by all night. Curiously, the light overhead him, his only source of illumination, flickers like lightning strikes.

“_ Looks like we have our first and only caller for the night, fucking delighted to have you on air with us, Mr Insomnia. Did you know on average a normal functioning human being needs seven hours of beauty sleep? _”

There’s an amused lilt to the host’s voice which made Adam feel irrational in the best ways, his tired ribcage closing in on itself like moth wings. He lays his phone on the floor and presses his ear to the receiver, as if that allowed him to hear the host clearer, hear him _closer_, enveloping himself in that soft tone.

Sunlight bursts within him for some inexplainable reason, even when the night sky still stretched out beyond the garage door like spilt oil. The dust on the ground enters Adam's lungs as he tried to keep his exhales even, breathing in the metallic chemicals that made him feel like he was still human with the way he burned, a bonfire underneath his skin.

“You’re one to talk, you’re awake too”

“_ You must be new on this show, we never sleep during the witching hour _”

Adam rolled his eyes, smile blooming larger with every stupid reply he got. Tugging on the threads fraying around his knees, he waited patiently for each static-laced answer, heart and nerves on fire. His palms were sweating, an uncomfortable feeling he tries to prevent by wiping his hands onto the rough fabric on his thighs. He didn’t want to come off as impatient or demanding but every delayed second the silence stretched on was another second Adam’s breath hitched as he prayed his anxiety couldn’t be picked up on the radio signal.

“_ If you want me to stop, do you have any better content for the zero other listeners, mysterious southern casanova? _”

“Tell me about your friend Dick and his dead Welsh kings fetish? You know, so I know what to expect the next time I tune in”

“_ Kinda freaky but if you insist _,” Adam can hear the sarcastic grin in his voice before he puts on some horrible rendition of a posh rich boy accent, talking about Welsh mythology in the most disrespectful way imaginable. Adam’s cheeks hurt from smiling so widely.

The corners of his lips twitched as he nervously ran his fingers through his hair. He felt alive in the worst way, his heartbeat picking up in speed as ivy vines consumed his carcass. Rivers ran in his veins and drowned him with relief he's never known, heart singing along with the jazz tune that played with every interlude of the show.

So the host tells him about the other radio host that was away for some family trip, saying the worst things that made Adam’s ribs hurt from laughing. He heard glimpses of himself on the radio channel, surprised at how happy he sounded. The host’s voice softens as the minutes went by, telling him stories and fairytales like he was speaking only to Adam, and technically he was. Adam was his only listener, the host the only company Adam had during his night shift, a mutual loneliness the both of them filled together. They filled the silence over the radio static with laughs and boyish whispers, language dirty and laced with adolescence. Adam sighs, listening to the soft voice still wrapped in barbed wire and rose thorns until twilight crept away from him and his eyes slip shut.

★

Boyd finds him the next morning on the ground and drooling a little on his phone. He blinks up blearily at his boss from his curled position of the cold garage ground, coveralls serving as blankets around his lanky frame as he tried to flatten the hair that stood up, a consequence of laying his head flat on the floor all night. His ear still laid on his phone, the history telling him the call had ended just barely half an hour ago.

His boss gives him a concerned look as Adam finally took notice of the time.

He was going to be late for school.

An Adam on any other day who had an average night the previous day would be a hurricane of anxiety as he rushed to Aglionby from the garage. But last night had been anything but average, it was electrical in more than just the wires of the radio. Magic bounced in each of Adam’s steps and wildflowers sprouted from the soles of his sneakers, his spine surprisingly boneless and puddled with heat. 

He didn’t even care much about his phone bill or his aching back, not when he never felt more rested on twenty minutes of shut-eye, grinning privately to himself all the way to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is such a self-indulgent au i don't have the motivation to properly edit but like,, i've been craving pynch content for days now so i just-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where adam sings because he can't function around boys he likes (ronan headass)

Adam has been tuning into Glendower Radio religiously for a week now.

He stays up to listen to show nightly, even on the days where he didn’t work late shifts, the heavy bags lining around his eyes proof of the nights he spends sleepless and lying alone in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling of St Agnes and listening to the gentle lull of the show’s bizarre host as he whispered stories both familiar and not. Adam prefers the fairy tales the host tells, of knights and kings and magicians, all magnificent, especially with the thinly veiled awe in the host’s low voice. It was like a bedtime story, 

He talks to the mysterious host sometimes, not calling each time but close enough. It was like having a conversation with an asshole friend, even if everything he said was being broadcast for anyone to listen. No one ever did.

“ _ Goodnight, dear listener, sweet dreams, loser _ ”

The host would always whisper as it crept into 4 am, when the world was still too silent and magic existed for a handful of seconds.

Adam’s heart would beat too loudly in the echo of his right ear. His cheeks heat up and he struggles to regulate his breathing back to normal, a rush of spring ripping through his lungs at the static affection. Sometimes Adam calls just before the show’s about to end, whispering his own goodnight. That was only on the nights when he felt least cowardly.

He waited silently for the noiseless crackling from the radio to finally morph into sweet whispers and crude language. Before Glendower Radio was some mindless top forties pop playlist Adam suffered through just because he was too impatient to hear the host again. 

He stared outside of the stained room window of the apartment above St Agnes church, watching as the night sky stilled like stagnant water, the calm of midnight being disrupted by raindrops ripping it open. The rain poured as the moon cried, hitting the church’s roof loudly. Adam erased the grammatical error in his essay to harshly until it ripped a small hole in the middle of his sentence, his restlessness borderline unbearable.

“ _ Welcome back, asshole, I know you’re listening in _ ”

Adam grinned to himself, poking a dent in his eraser with his pencil graphite, too tired to focus on Latin vocabulary any longer. The rain was too loud and the host’s voice muffled by the sky’s sadness, Adam refused to close the window though, allowing both of his favourite comfort sounds to wash over him like waterfall showers.

“ _ Was it you who pissed off god? It’s fucking raining hell tonight _ ”

The host always spoke to Adam directly even when neither of them was on the phone. Adam laughed to himself, a breathless thing that made his eyes crinkle up even though barely any sound escaped his lips, amused by the host’s inability to care that he was swearing on public radio.

He flips his phone in his hand, watching the dark screen like it personally victimised him, as the host started talking about the Jurassic World movies. He bites down on his bottom lip nervously as he dialled the number.

Adam has called in multiple times now but it didn’t make the process any less nerve-wracking. He didn’t like speaking, constantly afraid his words would get him into trouble since he was young. His silence was his safety, a precaution against horrible fists colliding into his young body. The radio host made him feel heard and Adam lets out a relieved sigh when the line finally picks up,

“ _ Fucking finally, caller _ ”

“Don’t you ever sleep?”

There’s a scoff coming from the other line and Adam smiles to himself, running a hand through his hair as he jumped flat on his second-hand bed. The cheap frame creaks in the process but Adam pays it no mind as he turned to lie on his stomach, legs kicking up towards the ceiling.

“ _ If I sleep who's gonna take care of your insomniac ass? _ ”

“So you admit you only do this for me?” Adam teases and grins in satisfaction when a loud splutter comes from both his phone and the radio perched on his pillow, “I’m flattered”

His face kind of hurts from smiling so hard, eyes squinting in the dark as he waited for the radio host to collect himself again. The easiness between them was something Adam was quickly getting used to, talking to the other boy felt like a punch to the gut filled with affection, the butterflies in his abdomen stirring up a thunderstorm that rivalled the one outside his window.

The radio host groans, muttering a silent ‘shut up’ Adam only caught because he was so intent on catching each one of the stranger’s words. Adam was giddy with rosewater. 

“ _ You’re our only caller, dipshit _ ,” the voice on the other line retorts, “ _ Of course it’s only for you _ ”

Adam just about faints.

All the blood in his head travels backwards to his heart in the form of a deep blush he’s glad no one’s around to see. He picks his thin sheets between two fingers, fidgeting as he bit down on his bottom lip.

“ _ You’re the only one in Henrietta crazy enough to be awake right now, loser _ ”

“I’m only awake for you”

Adam doesn’t say ‘ _ for the show _ ’ or ‘ _ to tune in _ ’ because neither is true. He’s been almost lifeless during the day and feverish with exhaustion just because he was slowly getting addicted to the host’s stories and his soft voice, whispering secrets about foreign lands directly into his ear. He didn’t care much for mythology but there was an inexplainable force thrumming underneath his skin that banned him from slumber until he got his daily dose of teasing over radio static.

The voice over the phone hitches and Adam closes his eyes to focus on both the host and the northern downpour in a world he no longer existed in when the other boy was talking to him, “ _ You can’t just say shit like that, man _ ”

Adam only hums in reply, the hot gas building up inside of him expanding further until there was not enough of him to hold all his affection in. He felt like he was going to burst. 

Were they flirting? Adam couldn’t really understand just  _ what _ he was doing, only that he enjoyed it too much to stop. He was after all a glutton for affection, like he was a small boy again, craving and preening under attention he had never received before like a sin.

“You started it”

“ _ Then sing me a lullaby to sleep, asshole _ ”

Adam doesn’t answer for a minute too long, bare feet padding against the dirty carpet of his church apartment to his only window. He stared outside and at the barely-there moon, watching her wink at him as he contemplated his options. It was difficult to tell when the host was just ribbing him and when he was being serious. The softness of his voice gave Adam a near cardiac arrest as he bit down harder on his tongue. The moon stared back in her silver light, hazy and misted by the pouring rain. She, the moon; beautiful and lonely, asked him for a song, just like the radio host; equally enigmatic and alone. So he inhaled the stale air of midnight rain and parted his lips, unable to deny two gods that demanded so sweetly from him.

“Now my life’s sweet like cinnamon,” Adam starts, voice faltering as he swallowed dryly, realizing the fool he was making out of himself on live radio, “Like a fuckin’ dream I’m livin’ in”

“Baby love me cause I’m playin’ on the radio,” the boy on the other line remains uncharacteristically silent as Adam continued even if he felt stupid singing in his room, “How do you like me now?”

Adam takes a deep inhale, leaning his bare back against the cool wall of his room, the rain carrying his voice with the wind. The phone pressed to his right ear feels warm but it doesn’t compare to the inferno burning deep under Adam’s human skin.

“Pick me up and take me like a vitamin,” he listens desperately for any sort of reaction, for any confirmation he wasn’t reading this all wrong, “Cause my body’s sweet like sugar venom, oh yeah”

The host’s breath hitches over the line, clear even through what could be miles of signal and static. His voice carried to Adam’s blushing ear over fields and meadows of telephone lines, disrupted by the rainwater endlessly.

“Baby love me cause I’m playin’ on the radio,” He breaths out at last, whispering like the prayers he hears from the church at odd hours, chest heaving and lucid. He has never felt more alive, more  _ awake _ .

“ _ I was kidding _ ”

“I’m sorry”

“ _ No, you’re just so- _ ” there’s a nervous laugh coming from the other line as Adam perched on the edge of his desk, fingers tightly gripping on the cheap wood as he waited for the reconning of his thoughtless actions that seemed to only happen around that lovely voice, “ _ You’re- fuck- you’re dream-like _ ”

Adam laughs nervously too, the two of them awkward messes, a burst of a snort escaping his lips. He runs a hand through his hair and lolls his head onto one shoulder, smiling stupidly to himself in the dark, “Did you just call me dreamy?”

“ _ Shut up, loser _ ”

“Will you sleep now, loser?”

“ _ Alright mom, if you insist _ ,” the radio host bites without any real malice, his voice softens as the rain reduces into a light drizzle outside, the pale moonlight illuminating every surface of Adam’s tiny room. Adam really wanted to bottle up his voice, muddled with gentleness and sleep, and drown in it.

“ _ Goodnight, loser _ ”

Adam smiles shyly to himself even if no one was around to see him grinning like an idiot alone, heart bursting with something unidentifiable.

“Sweet dreams, loser” 

★

“I heard you last night on the radio,” Blue stated, arms crossed and looking ridiculously fierce even in her pale yellow Nino’s waitress uniform, “On Glendower Radio?”

It was Tuesday afternoon which meant Adam had two shifts at Nino’s after school. The rundown diner was charming in that American gothic way, with its cracks and coffee-scented air. There was a bouncy ball machine outside next to an ancient kiddie ride that never stopped creaking, linoleum flooring with checkers that Adam was forced to mop up no matter how sticky it got, and red vinyl seats with too many tears to be comfortable. It felt like a daydream, asleep despite all the bursting of people and teenagers at every hour, a place stuck in time. Adam, who was a boy who also looked stuck in time, would’ve loved Nino’s if he wasn’t making minimum wage there as well. 

He was supposed to be wiping tables down when Blue cornered him, fixing him with a stare that made him fidget.

Last night felt like a distant memory, a pleasant daydream clouded by the rain and teenage exhaustion. It was secret and sacred, a thing Adam kept too closely to the fatal arteries in his heart. He woke up with shame in his bed and a weak smile, all the muscles in his torso losing their tension and leaving him weak. It was a thing he didn’t want to think about but spent every moment obsessing over. He couldn’t stop replaying the awe in the host’s voice on repeat, thinking  _ ‘I did that _ ’.

Adam’s cheeks warmed up as he ducked his head, rubbing one side of his face with his hand, trying to give a glaring Blue his attention while also serving tables for eight dollars per hour. The locals just ate up Adam’s southern gentleman image, an act he played up for tips as he smiled as sweetly as iced tea to each expectant face. He was exhausted though, all american sweetheart image ruined by the dark circles under his eyes, a consequence he didn’t mind staying up all night for.

“I didn’t even know you listened to Glendower Radio”

“I’m from a psychic family, it only makes sense I listen to underground hipster paranormal radio shows for the aesthetic”

She tailed him around, relentless in calling him out for his embarrassing stunt, any sort of judgement he possessed out of the window when low voices whispered adoration straight into his ear. He forgot everything he did was being broadcast for anyone to hear, too sickly drunk on his infatuation to care about anyone outside of the radio host’s orbit.

Blue wrapped a hand around his wrist, an action that would’ve struck matches in him just a week ago, before a mysterious stranger had completely taken his attention. He turned around like a sulking child, one hand rubbing nervously over his arm as he groaned, “It was dumb, I was being dumb alright?”

Blue gave him a look that suggested that she knew he was being full of shit and he dragged her away from the main dining area to the staff room, embarrassed enough with himself without the million of Aglionby eyes following them.

“It’s just-” he started, leaning his back against the door of the staff room, biting his thumb’s fingernail nervously, “He’s  _ so- _ you know?”

“I would understand you better if you just used your big boy words”

Adam made a complicated gesture with his hands to save himself from the mortifying ordeal of admitting his very  _ irrational _ feelings for a disembodied voice that made him feel alive. Blue only raised an eyebrow at him as he struggled to relay ‘I’m a bisexual disaster’ with only sign language.

“He just sounds,” He mutters, shrugging his shoulders up to his red ears, “ _ Hot _ ”

“I never knew I would live to see the day sensible Adam Parrish developing a  _ crush _ “ she teased, pinching one of his blushing cheeks between her painted fingernails, “You’re so cute, I  _ almost _ regret dumping you”

“No- Yes-” Adam struggled, rubbing said burning cheek, “Okay, whatever, shut up”

Blue smirked at him, face infuriatingly smug as Adam tried to calm down his heartbeat from all this self-revelation.  _ Yes, I do have a crush and yes, I do want to jump a guy just because his voice is low and he’s ridiculously funny _ . Adam kinda wants to disappear.

He doesn’t get to, however, because soon their manager is shouting at them to get back to work. Blue gives him one more teasing wink as Adam sulked back to serving tables. She doesn’t stop ribbing him throughout the day, especially since he spaces out often thinking  _ ‘oh god I do have a crush’ _ .

Despite the embarrassment and knowing Blue could be listening in at any time, he doesn’t stop calling, unable to tear himself away from the stranger on the other line.

★

It's been almost three weeks of constantly calling, his tiny crush steadily growing into something drowned with affection, when his host disappears.

He’s a little disappointed when he turns the radio on that night, only to hear a different voice announcing him a welcome back to Glendower Radio. The new voice was too polite and pleasant, nothing like the rough and dirty mouth of his favourite host. While the other host had a low voice that suggested nicotine smoke and pious prayers, this new one was baked with old Virginia money and expensive cognac. He sounded like Californian surf beaches when all Adam sought for was the handsome lull of the inky night.

“ _ Hello, dear listeners, sorry for the hiatus, some personal issues had arisen which demanded my attention to, _ ” The voice said, Adam mindlessly changed tires without giving the new host much of a second thought, “ _ I hope my co-host had behaved himself in my absence, if not, I hope none of you will be pressing charges. _ ”

Adam wonders briefly if he could press charges against the mysterious co-host for making him into a muddled mess. Sighing with disappointment as he lowered the volume knob of his tiny radio.

“ _ Tonight we’ll be covering a section on mysterious extraterrestrial sightings all around the United States of America, from well-known cases to unbelievable folklore _ ,”

After countless nights listening to the other host spew whatever bullshit he felt like talking about, Adam was a little caught off guard hearing something actually about mythology and the paranormal, seemingly forgetting that yes, it was an actual radio show. At this point, the co-host would have said something incredibly dumb that made Adam’s headache and his smile fond. The current host, the infamous Dick III, did not kid around with his storytelling. Adam sighed and got back to work, not realising how much he missed the other host’s constant ribbing. It was a little pathetic being infatuated by a faceless voice clouded by static but the other host always did make Adam a little less sensible.

The current host sounded handsome, with a voice that demanded respect and attention, a voice of authority. Adam would’ve been fascinated with him if he wasn’t already addicted to the sarcastic laugh of cemetery nights.

The other host relays a story about Roswell, New Mexico that Adam treats as background noise that lonely night, feeling emptier than usual as his hands tightened bolts mindlessly. He never realised how far he had let his sickly sweet affection grow like sunflower seeds until he no longer had his favourite host to ruin him into nothing. Boredom crept to him, his bones feeling tired as he mechanically did his work with his thoughts turned off, he felt wilted. His nightly rituals of staying up later than necessary didn't feel like a chore, not when harsh words and soft voices comforted him and made him feel alive. There's a feeling of missing someone he had never met that confused Adam to no end, consuming him like forest fires and filling the barren hellscape of his heart with daylight in the form of dangerous fondness. It spun around him like rose gardens, leading him around in circles until he was dizzy and stupid with joy. 

In the quiet night, radio show going on like static, Adam longed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the nice comments, i didn't think anyone would read this tbh (you should bother me on tumblr about adam parrish @/farmcorelynch)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gay panic but ronan edition because there wasn't enough longing the last two chapters

"_Now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fuckin' dream I'm livin' in_," the voice on the other line sang and Ronan felt like he was about to combust into flames. He spluttered and his caller laughed between breaths before continuing to drawl the lyrics lazily, an easiness muffled by the rain. When he sang, the words rolled off his tongue like Virginian meadows, his vowels dropping like flies. Ronan listened intently with shame, mesmerised by the caller and his sweet voice, every nerve in his body malfunctioning at once. 

"_Baby love me cause I'm playin' on the radio_"

Henrietta sleeps but Ronan Lynch rarely does the same, suffering in lucid torment as the little demons living behind his eyelids relentlessly stab at the dead organ that was his brain. Outside of Monmouth Manufacturing, the northern downpour relentlessly fell onto the sandy ground, leaving nothing behind but a wasteland of grey storm clouds and mud that was going to be a bitch to walk through tomorrow. Precisely the reason why Ronan was not going to leave his room tomorrow.

That and he was going to be too weak to get up from his curled up position in bed, none of his limbs and his throat functioning or cooperating with his melted head. He was too ruined for public sightings. He was a mess.

"_Pick me up take me like a vitamin cause my body's sweet like sugar venom oh yeah_"

And his breath hitches, pulling his phone closer to his ear to hear every word clearly, refusing to miss this moment just because he was too much of a human disaster to process what was going on. Ronan has no idea what the mystery caller even _looked_ like. Only that he really wanted to kiss him right now, to swallow his voice with every second their mouths brushed.

He can picture it in his head so vividly, shades of golden sunlight as bright as springtime entering the tall windows of Monmouth, a warm body heaving next to him with soft fingers tracing lines all over his body and striking matches. The boy on the other line smiling at him, maybe with dimples, freckles that blush like his classmate, Adam Parrish. There'll be a lighter between his teeth as he set Ronan on fire when their lips brush.

Tangled up in a sea of his bedsheets, Ronan was drowning.

"_Baby love me cause I'm playin' on the radio_"

Ronan held his breath, burning cheek pressed deeper against his cool pillowcase, afraid his deep exhales would be too loud on air, the caller leaving him borderline asthmatic. He remained silent as Ronan collected himself back together like shards of marble, the other boy his Achilles, half-man and half-god, who shattered him so easily. 

"I was kidding," he confessed, star-struck and heaving with the red blush travelling down his neck.

"_I'm sorry,_" the other boy whispers back, voice carried by the rain and as soft as mist.

Ronan took another deep breath, every cell in his body urging him to flee. Run away and never turn back, the adrenaline plaguing his bloodstream making it hard for him to stay still. He needed to run and he didn't even know from what. Crumpled sheets tightened around his ankles like shackles and Ronan needed to scream. 

He sighed and pressed his burning temple against the rough wall of his room, his sheets pooling around his waist like lake water, rippling and disrupted by Ronan's thrashing around, body too strummed with warmth begging to escape. The scratch of the plaster against his skin a reminder he was awake, this wasn't a dream and each inhale into his lungs was fresh spring air. The boy on the phone was _real_. Ronan was developing a migraine just thinking of him in real life, solid to touch and clear to see.

" No, you're just so- " Ronan struggled with his words, twisting his hands in his lap even if the other boy couldn't see him. He had never been fluent in expressing himself, even as words in a clusterfuck of both fractured English and Latin busted at his seams. He was a butchered up dictionary and his caller wasn't in front of him for Ronan to simply point at the words, actions an ancient language he was more coherent with. Over the line, Ronan was forced to voice out his tsunami of thoughts and fondness.

"You're- fuck- you're dream-like"

There's that sweet laugh again, like mountain dew dripping down pine trees. The sound of summer breezes. Ronan blushes deeper in the dark, too awake and dreaming. The corners of his lips tug upwards without his permission.

"_Did you just call me dreamy?_"

Ronan was ruined.

Both the lightning outside his window and the boy outside his daydreams were striking him simultaneously, an electrical white light going straight through his veins and accumulating in his heart like lactic acid. He groans in distress, the sweet voice only laughs breathlessly at him like forest nymphs, amused and blissfully unaware how tangled he made Ronan feel.

"Shut up loser"

"_Will you sleep now, loser?_"

Ronan was never sleeping again.

"Alright mom, if you insist," he answered instead of arguing, the lullaby had only raised him from his grave and woken him up further. Every inch of him felt alive and lucid.

Ronan can already imagine his caller rolling his eyes, even if he had no idea what colour his eyes were. Maybe they were green like forest moss or brown like Henrietta soil. Ronan really hoped they were blue like ocean waves. Ronan wished they crinkled with a smile, a mirror of the grin gracing his own lips.

"Goodnight loser"

There's that laugh again, ringing in the enclosed space of his bedroom and his head like church bells. Ronan knew he wasn't thinking straight when all he could think about were white butterflies sewn on suit lapels standing in front of filled pews.

"_Sweet dreams loser_"

Ronan cuts off the line, hanging up before his loose tongue did anything too reckless while he was too drunk on fondness. He swallowed his spit and cleared his throat, signing off the radio show while trying to ignore how the other boy was still listening in, probably alone in a bedroom just as charming as he was.

He lets the sound of the night's thunder sorrow and the cut-off radio static buzz around him like flapping raven wings before burying his burning face into his pillow, pulse singing an encore of the rain and his caller's voice.

★

When Gansey asks Ronan for a favour to host his dumb nerd radio show while he's busy being his mama's boy in DC, Ronan bitched about it. A lot.

Partially it was because he hated talking, his vocabulary seemingly useless outside of his head. Ronan was no master at words when he actually needed them, every language he knew stuck in his throat and festering like raven swarms back into his skull. He wasn't quiet but everything else about he was already so loud, from the buzzcut to the tattoo, he didn't need to speak to make himself known.

The other part was because Ronan thought Gansey's radio show was a fucking stupid idea.

Ronan always thought he was filled with too much passion, falling in love with obsessions until points of destruction. And even if Ronan would follow him to the ends of the earth, he could at least admit starting a radio show on a whim wasn't the brightest idea Gansey had ever roped him into.

Gansey had placed a solid hand on his shoulder, comforting and brotherly, a pack between boys that hasn't faltered since they were both bright-eyed middle schoolers with too much free time on their hands. His eyes were pleading as his mouth twisted into the ugliest pout Ronan had ever seen. With an irritated grunt, Ronan agreed, just for a _week_. Gansey lit up like the sun, all American bronze skin like those waste of tax money sculptures outside of pretentious libraries.

But it was Ronan's fierce loyalty to his best friend that he agreed. Gansey was like the Troy Bolton to his Chad and he wouldn't dare say no to his friend's boyish charm, puppy-like in the same way his younger brother Matthew was capable of being.

So he begrudgingly pulled the stupid sound booth Gansey found at a hipster garage sale into his, the demonic piece of shit the reason why Gansey even got obsessed with radio shows in the first place, refusing to leave his bed for this.

No one was going to tune it, it was 3 am and the whole town was dead. All Ronan had to do was spew bullshit to absolutely no one for half an hour. It would be fine. He would be fine.

From the first night, things were decidedly _not_ fine.

The problem is, Ronan wasn't expecting anyone to listen to his absolute awful ramblings, the exact reason why he chose to recite the entire wikipedia page off obscure movies mostly to spite Gansey into regretting asking anything from Ronan. 

He practically trips over himself when his phone started ringing, the murder squash song ripping through the mostly silent void of Monmouth.

Charming southern accents and rounded vowels, the mysterious caller that dropped in ever so often made Ronan _burn_.

His laugh was low, made even worse with the way it went directly into Ronan's ear through the phone receiver. He hated modern technology with an unfair amount of abhorrence but god was he grateful his phone had good sound quality, clear enough for Ronan to hear the stranger's breathy laughs and tired sighs.

Ronan's skin itched just waiting for his phone to ring now, almost comically similar to a tween girl anxiously waiting for her crush to text her back. Ronan knew he was being pathetic, not that there was anyone to judge him. Every ring was like an arrow piercing straight through his coronary arteries, choking him with his own love-sick blood.

He was dynamite waiting to explode into a cluster of dim stars and whoever _he_ was that kept Ronan company in the graveyard of Henrietta's silent night was gasoline.

He didn't even know what the stranger looked like, only knowing that he was ridiculously funny in a snarky way and that his voice was like honeysuckle during summer evenings. The moment that sweet drawl cleared the static, Ronan was rendered useless. He gave into Ronan's constant teasing, playing along just as merciless, his easiness something Ronan couldn't let go.

Ronan couldn't stop himself from imagining- almost _daydreaming-_ about what his caller looked like, boyish and soft if his accent was anything to go by. Maybe with boyish shoulders, fine cheekbones like every other Henrietta local, smiling in the middle of Henrietta's night and dialling Ronan's line like it was nothing. Ronan thought about him even hours after they hung up, replaying everything he says on repeat even as the sun rose up from slumber, a ghost that wouldn't stop haunting him.

The mystery caller was the only reason Ronan had to admit reluctantly (just to himself) that Gansey's outrages impulses weren't so bad after all. Of course, that's until Ronan remembers its technically all Gansey's fault Ronan was a fucking mess now. (Ronan's not mad though, suffering through his heart contraptions a small sacrifice he was too eager to pay just to hear _him_ again.)

Glendower Radio had started off as a passion project, like the majority of anything Gansey did. Ronan thought it was a fucking stupid idea at first, telling Gansey repeatedly no one in their right minds would stay up so late to listen to some fairytales, the slot he had booked a really unreasonable hour past midnight but before the town woke. Gansey only gave him a gentle look, one that made Ronan unreasonably angry just because he felt like he doesn't deserve it, and told him it wasn't about who listened, it was dedicated to the night. His eyes sparkled, blabbering something about the witching hour.

Ronan knew Gansey had a habit of romanticising the world but even he softened at the idea of a radio show just to Henrietta and no one else. He could not adore Henrietta the same way Gansey did, like she was his girlfriend, but Ronan did have an area specifically in his heart for the sleepy town. In the alleyway of his grief, there was a flickering lamp post of his childhood nostalgia that burned his eyes to stare at too long. On the world map, there was a bright red pin stabbing right through the tiny Virginian town, marking the location of everything Ronan loved and was struggling to love again. 

So he agreed to host, complaining mostly for the theatrics, forcing the words out sentence by sentence and drowning the quiet, lonely night with his own noise. It was only by divine intervention Ronan didn't have to suffer for long, not when there was another insomniac helping him in filling the empty static with his soft voice. Ronan had never been able to speak so freely, not since before the night he had to bury both his father and his old self in unmarked graves.

With him, a stranger Ronan barely knew about but ached to, Ronan spoke without restrictions, words streaming out of his mouth like tap water. It didn't feel like a battle anymore, to be able to communicate like he used to, but it did come with victory in the form of a gifted laugh or a fond insult. He was terrified to even learn his name, afraid it would ruin the easiness that came with their anonymity. Ronan was _admittedly_ anxious he wouldn't be able to handle him, the caller, in the flesh, real with a face and nothing to hide, moving limbs and a visual smile. He also wanted nothing more every night he laid dreaming in bed.

And Ronan could be classified as a category 5 hurricane, bringing destruction to anywhere he went, his suffering a shadow he couldn't shake off. Scars that went deeper than the ones carved into him, the trauma he couldn't shake off, the rusty scent of blood that attacked his senses still after all these years, even when he had already burned the clothes he wore on that night and shaved off all the hair on his head that trapped the ammonia from his father's corpse. He was loud and dangerous in all the worst ways, running and hiding from things that couldn't leave.

But the mystery caller with the voice that sounded like liquid sunlight, soft like wind bristling through the gaps of forest trees and perfect for the hymns Ronan confided in every Sunday at mass, silenced it all. A mute and pause button that made breathing just a little less constricting, Ronan no longer felt like screeching white noise. Whoever the other boy was, he made everything deafening about Ronan softer and everything silent about Ronan verbal, just like those stories about angels' voices curing monstrosities. 

He still felt like running but he didn't _have_ to, not when what was chasing him felt so similar to home, comforting and warm. Talking to the phone in the dark to a voice that understood him without having to try was the closest thing he had to summer evenings with his family anymore and Ronan craved it violently.

The boy on the other line had a very dry sense of humour, sarcastic in a way that rivalled Ronan's own snark. There was something unnameable and gentle that twisted in his chest when the caller laughed, Ronan feeling like a gardener who proudly bloomed that subdued joy in his tired voice. Their collective exhaustion was dangerous with the way it made fondness seep into their tones, polluting their throats with holy secrets, clear even from miles away and through static.

Everything about him was always mumbled with sleep but underneath the shallow surface was a sharp edge regardless, quick and merciless in the way he made Ronan weak like tiny daggers. Ronan could only imagine how much more venomous the boy on the other line was in the day time, southern drawl not drenched in soft sleepiness.

He was helpless when the caller yawned, biting hard on his bottom lip when the caller made him laugh, completely wrecked to unidentifiable puzzle pieces when they whispered goodnight.

And as Ronan laid alone in bed, staring unblinkingly at the rough ceiling of the warehouse like it would reveal the secrets of being human to him until everything else made sense, he would rot slowly and willingly allow himself to be consumed by blooming plants without struggle, ignoring the pulse in his veins that sang the caller's song over and over again like a hummingbird.

★

Gansey stood in front of him, glowing and beaming at him, all perfect white teeth flashing as he pulled Ronan into some form of half-hug, patting his back like a politician. Ronan rolled his eyes and rested his elbow on the top of his best friend's head.

He wasn't ready to stop hosting the radio show yet, unprepared for the lonely nights he would be suffering through again, completely awake but without the familiar company to soften the blow. Ronan was going to miss secretive 'goodnights' and the constant banter he seemed to be addicted to.

The worst part was that it didn't have to stop just because Gansey was back to host again, Ronan could easily just ask Gansey to let him host on some nights, just to talk to the caller again.

He just wouldn't bring himself to go through with it, knowing it would involve explaining himself and his very confusing feelings to one Richard Campbell Gansey III.

So he's sulking a little when he picks Gansey up from the airport, mentally debating with himself whether the mortal embarrassment of admitting Gansey was _right_ and that his radio show _isn't_ stupid was a price worth paying just so he could indulge in his crush (_fucking Christ, he had a crush_) on a pretty boy he's never seen before.

He leaves the thought on hold for a moment, giving Gansey exactly ten minutes of mushy affection time before his reputation was ruined.

"Welcome home, Dick"

Gansey's face twisted into a grimace as they started walking through the swarm of the airport's crowd, Gansey struggling with his luggage and Ronan doing absolutely nothing to help while striding even faster. Gansey barely catches up to him, glaring at Ronan for leaving him behind as they walked to the carpark.

"So about Glendower Radio," Gansey _very_ subtly brought up once they were both seated in the front seats of the BMW, Gansey buckling in and Ronan pretending he didn't know what a seat belt was. Ronan groaned in response, limply lolling his head to the side and interrupting whatever Gansey was going to say, his heartbeat in his ears louder than the engine coming to life. Gansey gave him an unimpressed look, Ronan pretended he didn't notice the disappointment radiating off of him.

"No nerd talk until we're home, I'm trying to practice self care"

It was Gansey's turn to complain, mimicking Ronan's groan and slumping into his seat like whatever he was about to say before Ronan interrupted was slowly killing him from the inside. Ronan only grinned in satisfaction as his best friend sulked in his passenger seat, shifting up the speed to borderline unbearable.

The rest of the car ride was mostly silent, not even Ronan's radio turned on. Ronan was tense, burning with fuel and unused energy that collected mostly in his shoulders. They don't talk about it, not when Ronan spends the rest of the evening avoiding Gansey and his confrontation, running straight to his room before Gansey could even open his mouth, internally panicking about adorable callers and what it all meant not to have his company anymore.

★

Adam Parrish sat a few seats in front of him in first period Latin, the only class Ronan bothered to attend, mostly just because Adam was in it.

He was garish and meagre, with dusty blond hair sweeping over his eyes, an all american boy-next-door missing the constant smile. He was constantly frowning instead, eyebrows knitted together in concentration as Whelk went through declension on the whiteboard. Ronan couldn't stop thinking about seeing Adam Parrish smile, _making_ Adam Parrish smile.

Ronan might have just the smallest crush on him.

He transferred to Aglionby in only their final year and Ronan was already awestruck by the newest scholarship student, far gone in the deep end of tender feelings He Refuses To Examine at any period of time at all. Maybe it was his elegant hands, boyish and calloused with boney knuckles and freckles, or maybe it was the thunderstorm of blue that struck Ronan as ridiculously intelligent. Whatever the reason was why Ronan couldn't tear his eyes off of Adam Parrish and held his breath whenever they crossed paths, he simply refused to acknowledge it, instead, throwing it into the emotional dumpster fire that was things he probably shouldn't ignore and yet did anyways. His Adam Issue sat right next to Mystery Caller Issue and Ronan was overall straight up not having a good time in his life with all these stupidly smart boys.

(He admittedly fantasies that maybe, _just maybe_, both of his issues could be just one big issue where they're both the same person. 

That's a thought he only allows late at night, listening to Gansey hosting his radio show through the walls of the factory and _yearning_ for a stranger he knew for a week. He definitely ignores that one most, already imagining Gansey laughing at him and his off-brand pessimism.)

He was always so quiet, subdued and silent. Ronan could only imagine Adam talking to him, Adam sparring words towards him life gifts from heaven and filling something incredibly hollow that lived in him when he sees the other boy's silhouette. 

Their silences were different. Ronan's silence was compensation for everything else about his existence, Adam's silence was so loud it made him invisible. Ronan's silence was a weapon, Adam's silence was armour. Ronan, selfishly, wanted to destroy it to pieces, he wanted nothing more than to _listen_.

"So we have a regular listener?"

"What?" Ronan stumbled, caught off guard as Gansey peered up at him with a smug look, forced to pause his internal monologue about mysterious Adam Parrish and his even more mysterious voice. 

His best friend had been giving him side glances all morning as they got ready to school, being as subtle as a heart attack that he was just _dying_ to say something. Ronan thinks he's doing this in class as an act for revenge because Ronan was hiding from him and this exact talk just last night. His worst night so far in days with no soothing voice to wash over his self-inflicted isolation. Gansey gave him a toothy grin, Ronan groaned, knowing that wasn't the case, Gansey was just a little too excited about their only listener to wait for after school to attack Ronan with questions.

Ronan doesn't completely blame him, he was planning on fucking off as soon as possible anyways, not trusting himself to talk about the mystery caller without sounding too fond and gross.

"You said no would ever listen to Glendower Radio," Gansey explained, excitement seeping into the pores of his voice as he radiated with joy, "But now we have a nightly caller!"

"What? No, we don't"

Gansey fixed him with a stern look, resting one solid hand on Ronan's shoulder even if their height difference made it look a little awkward. Ronan shrugged his hand off, Gansey placed both of his hands on Ronan's shoulders to tug him down until they were on the same eye level. Ronan swallowed nervously.

"Ronan, I listened to the show in Washington"

Ronan wanted to smack himself.

How could he forget Gansey would probably tune in to make sure Ronan wasn't being too crude on live radio. How could he forget everything he said was being broadcast, listeners or no listeners? He can't believe he made a fool of himself on public radio, sounding like a lovesick idiot over some cute boy with a southern twang.

Adam Parrish was leaving his seat, Ronan sulked at the loss in distress as Gansey gave him an even more infuriating look, praying to god his delicate skin wasn't betraying him or his reputation by turning red.

"So... he seems nice, very lovely singing voice," Gansey mumbled, raising one eyebrow at Ronan. Ronan pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, hoping that the hotness he felt radiating from his cheeks wasn't leaving a hue. Judging by Gansey's gloating tone his face was the same shade as a fucking fire hydrant right now.

"You're _never_ bringing this up ever again"

"Oh? Would I?"

Gansey had a shit-eating grin on his face and if it weren't for the law and his disgusting fondness for the other boy Ronan would've smothered his handsome all American face with his own book bag by now.

"Don't you _dare_"

"Why not? It's not like you two are canoodling, right?" Gansey smiled innocently, looking like the devil's associate. Ronan was going to kick his ass and Gansey didn't even care, the other boy had no fears and Ronan was determined to make him weep blood.

"Dick"

"Ronan"

"Gansey"

"Lynch"

"Your republican mother wouldn't approve of you supporting the gays, mama's baby boy," Ronan grunted, pulling Gansey by his sleeve out into the hallway as the rest of the Aglionby boys filtered out of the classroom. Gansey fussed about Ronan stretching the sweater material while Ronan mimicked his accent.

"You're being real mature, Ronan"

"You started this"

"You're the one who insulted me on public radio"

"No one was tuning in to hear it"

"Your boyfriend was listening"

Ronan groaned and pressed his forehead against Gansey's locker, shoulders slumping in defeat and face on fire. Gansey's grin only widened further and Ronan was suffering from a migraine, praying that either he had a secret stash of booze hidden in his barely used locker he had forgotten about or that god would snipe him in the back of the head. He didn't know how he was ever going to survive any time at all with Gansey sober.

Gansey patted his cheek in mock sympathy and Ronan knew for a fact he was going to die young. It doesn't help Ronan at all that Adam Parrish chose to pass them then with a messenger bag slung on only one boney shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Gansey's smug smile and Ronan's obvious embarrassment. He shook his head and offered a sympathetic tight-lipped smile, the ghost of a dimple making its presence known as he gestured to the locker Ronan was currently blocking. He barely processed what was going on before Gansey sharply nudged him in the ribs, whispering him to scoot, his blush burning brighter as he tried to hide his face in the crook of his arm.

He stumbled over himself to give Adam space. The corner of Adam's lips twitches in gratitude, his teeth barely biting on the edge of his bottom lip, as he quickly swapped his books and left. Ronan felt like he was going to combust into supernovas before Gansey nudged him again to get him to move along to their next class.

Ronan doesn't stop thinking about Adam's shy smile and sweet Henrietta accents all throughout the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is unedited because its midnight and i have school + work tomorrow/today but i said gay rights and whipped up this bad boy for y'all in an hour, i'll deal with the mortifying ordeal of being coherent tomorrow


	4. Chapter 4

Working at Nino's always resulted in migraines for Adam.

With the combined factors of the constant noise buzzing from the kitchen and the endless stream of customers to serve, taking orders and wiping down sticky tables until he was elbows deep in week-old grease, Adam was exhausted without a wink of rest between shifts.

The small window of break he was blessed with was always spent with Blue, out the back near the dumpster, and he chose to hang out with her there by choice. It stunk and it was disgusting but it was a small price to pay for privacy away from their manager and the million raven boy eyes watching their every move like hawks.

Out there, with the gross air and eerie vastness, Adam felt known.

Blue took her twenty earlier than him, giving up sooner than usual because a particular group of Aglionby students were grating on her nerves. She nodded at him miserably, leaning against the brick wall while munching on her stale lunch of restaurant leftovers. He gave her a similar blank look in reply, slumping by her side as he struggled with his equally pathetic meal.

"You look like shit," he said without any malice as he pulled out the radio from his apron pocket, gingerly placing it on the ground between them. Blue lolled her head in his general direction in greeting, making a strangled sound when Adam plays a recording of last night's broadcast of Glendower Radio. He promised he would save for her since she would miss it with work, she shows her appreciation by throwing pebbles at his face.

"_Dear listeners, how do you feel about pirates?_" The now regular host begins, sounding way too alive for the timing it was broadcasted. Blue wraps her arms around her knees as Adam tunes out his voice.

Five months ago, back when they were awkwardly dating, Adam would've never dared to say anything so bluntly to her. Now that they've gotten over the initial tumble of being friends again, Blue barely blinked at his comment, throwing her plastic wrap at his feet when the pebbles weren't enough to raise a reaction out of him. Adam scoffed, shoving it in his pocket instead of getting up.

"Thanks, it was one of your species that didn't know how to control his big mouth," Adam made a face at her for being compared to the other Aglionby boys, shrugging in agreement at their ignorance.

"What's new?"

"He called me a prostitute, Adam! A prostitute! What kind of self-entitled asshole thinks he can buy a person's time like that!" She sighed and laid her head on Adam's shoulder, Adam nudging her lightly with his elbow in reply. "I'm so glad you're not like that, even when you're being an asshole"

He sympathised, months of working around his classmates a shift he will never get used to. The difference was always startling no matter how many tables of raven boys he serves. It was the difference in uniform, one clean and one retched in oil. It was the difference in talk, one moneyed and one accented with a Henrietta drawl. It was the difference in cash, one paying and one receiving. Putting on that stupid paper hat on his head felt both like a war helmet and endless shame.

Adam bit down on his bottom lip, handing her his drink. She took it and drank it down gracelessly, staring right at him with a pleading look. Adam sighed, already knowing what she was going to ask before she could even open her mouth.

"_Anne Bonny was only sixteen years old when she fell in love with small-time pirate James Bonny-_"

Adam took the empty cola and aimed for the bin on her other side, grinning at her when there's a metal clash of the can as it hits the metal of the bin, destroying the mostly calm atmosphere of their combined asphalt daydream. Adam couldn't help but think of the moment as a future bedtime story for his children of his small-town beginnings as he tucks them in their expensive Egyptian cotton bed sheets in his lavish penthouse. Blue tugs on his arm, biting down on her bottom lip as if that ever worked on Adam. (It does. He just won't admit it in fear of making her anymore smug.)

"Please please take their orders, I can't stand seeing his face again or I might commit a felony"

"It's fine, I'll help you hide the body"

Blue gave him a look, nudging their shoulders together. He didn't doubt for a second she wouldn't do the same for him, covering a table and hiding a body.

With a sigh, Adam unfolded his legs from underneath him and sprung up, bones and joints creaking in protest with all of his movements. He doesn't offer a hand to pull Blue up, knowing her better, and keeping away his dear radio. She shoved him back into the diner as he tightened the bow of his apron, looking up at the table Blue was pointing at.

And regretting agreeing to help her instantly.

Richard Gansey wasn't someone he knew personally but he was the kind of guy everyone kinda _knew of_. From the limited knowledge of him Adam had gathered from the clips of gossip he overhears, Gansey was charismatic and a little bit dense, overly excited about everything he did. Adam didn't have a problem with him, he didn't have any problems with his classmates really past the disgust at their reckless monetary habits.

It was the boy who sat beside him that had Adam dragging his feet to the table with dread.

He's heard all about Ronan Lynch without even trying. The only other member of Gansey's circle of knights other than Noah Czerny, currently building a structure out of red straws.

Adam didn't have any personal issues with him either, other than being annoyed Lynch managed to top him in latin despite barely going. But Adam didn't need a reason to know not to poke snakes with sticks. He could see the warning sigh miles away, flashing neon with danger and barbed wires. It was all in the buzzcut and the tattoo, the black ensemble and the group of hellhounds he hung out with in parking lots Adam avoided like the plague. Adam gulped nervously, pulling at the collar of his uniform like it was restricting his breathing.

"Him, President Cellphone over there"

"Gansey? The one with brown hair?" Adam asked, whispering subtly to Blue even though he has to bend down for her to reach his right ear. She nods, rolling her eyes. Adam lets out a little '_huh_', surprised that out of the two out of three delinquents, it was _Gansey_ of all people who've managed to piss Blue off.

She shoved him towards them and scampered off before Gansey could open his mouth. Adam muttered feeling betrayed as he pulled out his notepad from his pocket, purposefully focusing all his attention of Gansey and Noah Czerny, knowing if he even glanced in Lynch's direction, he wouldn't be able to look away.

"Hi my name's Adam and I'll be your server this evening, what can I get you, boys?" Adam recited off his script, his voice tense as he swallowed down his accent. His drawl usually earned him extra tips and pinches to his cheeks from the locals, but around his classmates, especially the most exclusive of them, he really didn't need to expose his status and make the differences between them and him even more obvious. Without it though, he sounds strangled.

"Oh, Adam! From latin, right?" Adam gave him a terse nod, mildly charmed by how genuine Gansey was talking to him, surprised Gansey even recognised him. "Your tiny friend there is terrifying"

"I really hope Blue can't hear you from here"

"_Blue_," Gansey repeated, with a strange note in his voice, "What an exotic name"

"Now you better pray she couldn't hear that"

The diner felt like background noise, the shuffling of people and loud kitchen equipment nothing but chaotic instruments in the soundtrack of a daydream, Gansey's voice singing a tune Adam barely processed in his haze. He shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the pleasant small talk.

Adam's line of sight shifted without his permission and suddenly all he could focus on was Ronan absentmindedly chewing on a plastic straw, the tip of it balanced on the edge of his mouth and hanging out like a child's cigarette. He looked terrifyingly out of place pressed against the red vinyl seats, sharp and unforgiving in the tiny pizzeria Adam worked in. It was all too simple and gentle for the other boy to exist in, the image maddening combined with the lilac sunset entering the diner's dirty windows.

Adam felt like he had better luck finding Ronan in the paintings on the church walls below his apartment.

His heartbeat echos in his right ear, a steady rhythm he doesn't know the tune of, a tune he's never heard before.

Even though Adam was talking to Gansey, most of his attention was still trained on Ronan, feeling his unwavering glare and the hives that broke out on his arms from it. He shifts, leaning closer to the table to hide the obvious ketchup stain on his uniform, Adam already knows its too late, drowning in his own embarrassment.

"Parrish," and the way that Ronan says it made Adam feel filled with bees. He's suddenly reminded of sleepless cold nights and noisy static. "You look like shit, ever heard of sleeping?"

Adam whips his head, fully distracted now. His pen slides across the page and leaves a long line across the pad like a cheap blue river. Gansey stops telling Adam his order to shoot Ronan a dirty look, Adam sees Noah kick Ronan under the table.

Adam felt put on the spot, rubbing his dry cheek like it would fade out his freckles and make his eye bags disappear. He knows what he must look like to them, pitiful and exhausted, a walking corpse that hasn't slept a wink since the last time he spoke to the radio host.

The worst part was this was the first time all semester Adam has been attending Aglionby where Ronan talks to him directly. Adam's only a little flustered by the eyebrow Ronan raises at him. 

His voice is strangely familiar.

"You look like an insomniac is all I'm saying"

"Ronan," Gansey hisses, shifting his gaze between the two of them. Adam grips tighter onto his pen, sizing Ronan up. Ronan leans further into his seat spinelessly, staring at Adam lazily like he couldn't be bothered. Adam didn't share the feeling, very bothered and tired at once, too overworked and sleepless to consider his consequences properly before his tongue slips.

"As if you look any better"

He would've been regretful for snapping if not for the amused smirk Ronan gives him, the little twitch of the corner of his lip making him look much more dangerous than minutes ago when Adam was convinced Ronan was trying to set him on fire with his twisted mind. Ronan finally leans forward, getting too close to Adam for comfort and for the public.

Adam's starting to think Ronan was judging him for different reasons than previously thought.

"Your customer service sucks, runt," Adam rolls his eyes as Ronan grinned up at him, nothing but shining blue eyes and shark teeth, "I'll have a vanilla milkshake"

There's no rain. It's not raining. There wasn't a single cloud outside.

And yet Adam could feel the raindrops splashing on his skin and sliding down his face and onto his neck. The wind was blowing all around him like a hurricane. In the middle of Nino's, Adam was now standing alone in his apartment, leaning against a crumbling wall, and straining to hear the ghost of a final '_goodnight_' in the sound of the pounding thunderstorm.

Gansey gives his companion another warning look but Adam only clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, unbothered by Ronan's preschool attempt at teasing. Adam fakes nonchalance as he walks away even when his skin was burning hotter than the sidewalk in mid-June. He was panicking, swallowing down words. Accusations that would make him sound insane if he was wrong. His head spun, light-headed and giddy, a murder of crows out of control in the cage of his ribs.

_Are you him? Is he you?_

Ronan gives him a mocking salute, Adam didn't know how to tear himself away, swallowing nervously like a drowning man gulping for air. He turned around and scattered off to the kitchen, terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its a little short and messy but your local lesbian is taking their exams in a week so have this as an apology for disappearing off the face of the earth


	5. Chapter 5

Adam could feel Ronan's eyes on him from the back of the room.

It was third-period latin and they were going through declensions again. Adam couldn't keep his head on his shoulders long enough to process the material that left Whelk's lips. The class was too noisy again, sounds fighting and tackling all at once. But even in a sea of Aglionby boys causing havoc, the only one Adam could focus on was Ronan Lynch. Six foot high, constant scowl, and a voice Adam was straining his only functioning ear to hear again.

He was sitting perched on Gansey's desk, looking intimidating even in his dishevelled private school uniform. Gansey had to crane his neck to talk to Ronan, Ronan remained infuriatingly passive throughout his friend's monologue with only the occasional grunt.

Everything about Ronan Lynch, in Adam's worldview, was _loud_. From his buzzcut to his tattoo, the way he carried himself was deafening and calling for attention even if it was negative. His existence felt like a screaming black hole in the classroom, a tear in the universe that shouldn't exist but it does and Adam couldn't look away.

Despite everything about him being high frequency, Adam's never overheard him talk.

Maybe Ronan _has_ spoken to him before, maybe he's even screamed on the top of his lungs in the hallways, maybe Ronan's never been quiet the way Adam is but Adam had never noticed it. Adam just filtered and blocked it all out, too caught up in his head with figures and numbers and complicated plans for survival, he didn't pay any mind to the dangerous boy before the diner incident almost a week ago.

Now he couldn't tear himself away.

Hearing Ronan speak felt like a privilege Adam took advantage of and now some mystic force in the sky was playing a cruel joke on him by making Ronan suddenly mute when Adam was around. He regrets taking a front seat when Ronan only existed in the back row.

If Ronan Lynch really was the all so mysterious radio host, then Adam can admit he's missed him terribly. 

The nights were colder and he's never felt more hollow. Adam had bitten into something sweet on accident, a rarity in his life, and now without it his mouth felt dry. His sheets were always freezing without the heater of his heartbeat swelling up to two times its size every time the host whispered to him a gentle goodnight.

If he wasn't the boy he was, a false master of his deepest emotions with a leash on his worse impulses, he would grab savagely handsome Ronan by the sides of his face, regardless if he really was the radio host or not, and scream louder than he's ever been allowed to.

He would ask if they were midnight friends, if Adam's voice did horrible things to Ronan the same way Ronan's voice did to him. If Ronan really was the host Adam couldn't stop thinking about, maybe they would kiss right there and then in the middle of the room filled to the brim with a million Aglionby boys.

Adam twisted his neck away from Mr Whelk's monotonous blackboard to stare at Ronan Lynch's untwistable mouth, the sharp cupid's bow with an arrow just waiting to pierce Adam's tongue. He sighs, wondering if it was all worth it, the mingle of breaths and the brief surprise. Would Adam be the boy Ronan was excepting this whole time? Would Adam's identity be a disappointment to the radio host?

No, he couldn't deal with the embarrassment of rejection, not yet at least. Everything he did came with the certainty of shame. If he was too plain for Ronan Lynch, Adam doesn't think he could bear with the falling of his face into a disappointed grimace. If Ronan wasn't even the radio host at all, then Adam had set himself up for social suicide and probably a punch to his jaw for assuming Lynch was anything but straight. Adam knew better about Aglionby boys and their fragile sexualities, especially since he hid his stares better than any raven boy he's swapped spit with.

He's worked so hard to be where he is now, a man of his own with an autonomy no one had reign over, and it all depended on being quiet and unnoticeable, a shadow that would secretly weed its way into the elite. He could already imagine all his efforts going down the drain if there were rumours of him trying to plant his lips on Aglionby's most notorious and getting his face bashed in.

Even when Adam was seeking out Ronan's sight for the briefest guilty indulgence, he fell victim to his doubt.

Adam turned his head more to his right, hoping his abysmal hearing would be able to catch just the smallest whisper from the back of the room, that unfortunately left his deaf ear vulnerable to anything Whelk had to say about him. Oblivious in a world where his only focus was Ronan Lynch, Adam not so subtly turned in his seat like he was swatting at gnats, desperately seeking the familiar comfort he's been missing for weeks.

"Mr Parrish, is there something wrong?"

The way Whelk said it made Adam flinch, his voice suddenly too close to his working ear and attacked all his sense at once. Condescending and laced with poisoned niceties. It felt like being sucked out of a sound-proof vacuum straight into a heavy traffic jam in the middle of New York. There was no way Adam could've detected Whelk walking up to him, let alone hear his feeble warnings to pay attention. Adam clutched tightly onto his seat as Whelk peered down at him with poorly veiled disgust.

And Adam felt like a wet kitten about to be pulled by the scruff. Whelk smacked his flat palm onto his desk and Adam wanted nothing more than to bite his hand off. The room doesn't quiet down but Adam can feel one too many curious pair of eyes staring at the little commotion.

To the other raven boys, it wasn't a show but more of a break in daily routine. Adam hates that he's become temporary entertainment for the rich assholes, like a short circus act. Poor Adam Parrish working three jobs and being called out for a small crime Whelk wouldn't bat an eyelash at if Adam had been anyone else.

Hell, Ronan hasn't paid attention in his latin class since before Adam's transfer. Or so Adam's heard.

It wasn't _fair_.

"That's not fair," a voice snipes from the back row, loud enough for every head to snap away from Adam to the desks behind.

Ronan had his feet perched on Gansey's desk as he leaned back in his own chair, face painfully blank but lips curled into a sharp-smile, nothing but snapping canines. It wasn't much different from the first smirk Ronan had offered him back at the diner but there was still a distinct shift in his mood. The teasing grin in Nino's made Adam warm and irritated, the tear on Ronan's lips right now reminded Adam more of criminal mugshots and blinking red warning signs.

Even Whelk seemed to forget about Adam's presence, distracted enough for Adam to slither further into his seat. He ducked his head in embarrassment but he focused all his hearing on Ronan, sounding cocky as ever, taunting rabid dogs as a pass time.

If Adam wasn't ashamed enough already, he would bolt out of the classroom door to panic privately in the boy's toilet and risk causing a scene.

There's a buzz of excitement accumulating now, the static of gossiping raven boys attacking all at once. Adam muffled his working ear, mourning the loss of hearing Ronan again. The last thing he hears is Whelk's annoyed sigh from his nose, "Since when do you care about fair, Mr Lynch?"

Stewing in his own misery, Adam blocked out the whole lesson the moment he sees Whelk stalk back to the blackboard with irritation in every step. He's not sure he wants to know what Ronan says to piss the teacher off, just silently grateful and abashed, his skin itching with forest fires. But the class continues on and Adam knows better now than to twist his head to gauge and catalogue Ronan's expression.

The bell rings, Adam packs up his bag like clockwork, the chattering continues like the commercial break in the middle of the lesson never occurred like some bad hallucination. His comfort in patterns was disrupted enough for the day.

Everything should be sticking to routine except for the hesitance in Adam's leave and the cool glare Whelk sends his way as he exits the door.

But Ronan also stops him in the hallway, grabbing him by the bicep and dragging him into an empty classroom. 

Adam doesn't scream, he _can't_ scream anymore after swallowing his voice too deep into his lungs when he was nine. Instead, he bites down hard on his tongue, long enough to quell his brief panic and consider a nervous-looking Ronan Lynch.

Ronan avoids his gaze, running his flat palm over his buzzed head with his chin pointed downwards. Adam tilted his head in confusion and mild curiosity, more than interested in why Henrietta's devil had pulled him aside in a secluded classroom on the way to lunch.

"What do you want," Adam breathed cooly, willing his accent to stay in place buried in the back of his throat. Ronan snapped his head up, fingers twisting around the leather bands wrapped around his wrists.

"Do you want to eat lunch?" he starts, voice faltering in a way Adam would never think possible from a boy in the shape of Ronan, "With us. Do you want to eat lunch with us? Like me, Gansey and Noah"

Adam studied Ronan, regarded his body language from his hunched shoulders and furrowed eyebrows. Then his eyes wandered without his accord and categorised everything else that was unnecessary, like how thick Ronan's eyelashes were and how broad his chest looked even under his uniform and school sweater.

Adam cleared his throat, Ronan's attention only seemed to get more concentrated, "I don't want your pity"

"Christ, Parrish," and hearing his voice on Ronan's tongue again is enough to make Adam squirm, "It's not fucking _pity_, none of us pity you"

Adam tore into his bottom lip with his front teeth giving Ronan a hard look, like he didn't believe a word coming out of the other boy's big mouth. Ronan rolled his eyes, pulling out his hand and placing it between them. Adam raised an eyebrow at it, Ronan only groaned. "Look we obviously got off the wrong foot"

"You tell me, I'm pretty sure you still want to stomp my toes"

Ronan gave him a withering look but Adam could still see the faint smirk on his lips. "I just think Gansey would appreciate another nerd's company," Ronan grunted as Adam leaned forward to hear him clearer, "And I think you obviously got balls with that stunt you pulled with old fart-face. Noah would hang out with a rat given the choice, fucking sociable weirdo"

Adam gave him a thoughtful look before extending his own hand, melting their palms together and letting the friction of their brushing fingertips burn into his soul. He felt like he was about to melt along with that low voice vibrating around him in the dark.

"You don't seem like a handshake kinda guy," Adam quipped, tongue loose with a drawl he doesn't cage fast enough. Ronan only squeezes his hand tighter in reply, almost crushing Adam's bones. Adam doesn't complain.

"Shut up, I'll show you the exact kind of guy I am," Ronan groaned, shoving Adam by the shoulder out of the dark classroom back into the stream of students. In the fluorescent lights and crowd of Aglionby boys, Adam felt like an overexposed photograph. Ronan was still staring at him, his hand finally parting from Adam's. Adam wanted any excuse for them to be touching again.

"Secretly soft and sensitive?" Adam teased, earning a cuff to the back of his head.

The banter was easy, it was familiar and safe and fun all at once. Adam closes his eyes briefly as Ronan led him outside to the grassy grounds on campus, feeling the biting breeze on his cheeks and trying to imagine the radio host with Ronan's face. Trying to picture Ronan, laying alone in a dark bedroom, whispering sweet-nothings for Adam to hear through a shitty recording system.

Like connecting circuit wires, Adam could see it all vividly. Ronan's mouth twisting to say every word Adam listened to intently every night and replayed on repeat every hour of every day. Ronan keeping him company beyond the hours of midnight, thinly veiled exhaustion creeping into his voice as he mercilessly mocked Adam's accent and opinions on movies. Ronan flirting _back_ when Adam said something less than platonic and the rush of sickly sweet syrup that flooded Adam's veins the hours after the show ended. It all fitted perfectly in his head, drowning him all at once as Ronan's heat radiated onto him mere inches away.

Listening to him now rant about his brother's tiktok account, without the static or distance, Adam felt the same warmth and fondness he's gotten drunk on. Something that tastes dangerously close to hope bubbled through him and it took him digging his blunt nails into his palms until they formed crescents of blood to stop him from reaching out for Ronan's hand again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof here's another short one, but we gotta establish the pining first or else it Simply Isn't Nuanced


	6. Chapter 6

Adam watches passively as his sandwich from the gas station lays there, half-eaten and getting colder the more he leaves it alone. Beside him, Ronan fidgets like an overgrown child, nudging into him.

“My hands are cold again, Parrish”

Adam gave Ronan an unimpressed look as he gave Ronan his hand, feigning indifference when their heat melted into each other, even when his heart would skip a beat every time Ronan demanded attention from him. Ronan huffed, never saying thank you, running the soft pad of his thumb over Adam’s peeling knuckles in his own silent gratitude. Noah’s eyes flickered to Adam’s hands disappearing from his coffee cup, he doesn’t say a word.

They sat outside in the autumn breeze, Noah and Gansey across from them in their own private conversation, Adam’s hands in Ronan’s lap as Ronan slid the skin of their palms together like Adam was his personal body heater. Adam pressed his lips into a tight line, pretending the redness on his ears were from the cold. The wooden bench creaked as Ronan shifted closer, their thighs touching and Adam shivered even with the layers of fabric between them.

Spending lunch with the three most untouchable Aglionby boys, in their loyalty instead of status, was something Adam would’ve never imagined him getting used to. 

Faraway gods, that was the impression Richard Gansey and his two friends carried around with them as they conquered the halls of the private school. And Adam, when he just recently transferred from Mountain View, still insecure and meek, was in awe by them. The way they managed to walk around like they belonged, like they deserved to take up space and speak while Adam curled up into himself to take up as little space as possible.

The first time sitting at their table, he had squirmed and fidgetted, forcefully smiling politely at Noah’s jokes and Gansey’s pleasantries, Ronan infuriatingly silent even though it was him who dragged Adam to have lunch with his friends. Adam agreed, infatuated by Ronan’s seemingly unbreakable nature, by the time the bell rang, he was promising himself that would be the last time. 

Now he was holding hands with Ronan Lynch of all people, like his hands were crafted to be cradled by him, knowing better. Ronan was the least stoic person on earth.

In fact, he was affectionate in the worst way. In a way that didn’t involve words. Adam didn’t call him out on it, even as it frustrated him to the ends of the earth.

They were playing a game, like the kind middle school boys would play to prove they weren’t cowards during lunchtime. The only difference was there was no name to this game and Adam wasn’t clear on the rules. He wasn’t even sure if there _ were _ any rules in the first place. Ronan would just look at him, a challenge in his eyes even if they never acknowledge it, demanding for Adam’s attention.

Adam gave in willingly. The fun part was thinking of new ways to give shards of him while being inconspicuous to any prying eyes. This was a game made for only two.

Ronan’s hands in his jacket pockets, their ankles hooking underneath the table, skin brushing as they walked side by side.

If Adam was feeling particularly brave, he would brush his thumb over Ronan’s cheek and tease him for eating like a toddler, tomato sauce smeared all across his chin. Ronan would only dare to comb his fingers through Adam’s hair behind the secluded walls of Monmouth Manufacturing when Gansey was too distracted to notice them. Adam believes that makes him the winner.

“Adam, what do you know about Welsh kings?”

Adam perked up at the sound of his name being called, answering with a hum as he subtly pulled his hand away from Ronan. Ronan groaned, throwing his empty ziplock at Gansey’s face.

“No _ no _, you aren’t pulling this shit again, Dick”

“No, _ please _, tell me more,” Adam protested, placing a hand under his chin as Gansey visibly inflated with excitement, mostly because it pissed Ronan off. Ronan groaned louder and slammed his forehead onto the table, Noah pats his head, mumbling something about birdshit on the table under his breath.

“See, we run a mythology and paranormal radio show-”

“You mean _ you _ run a nerd’s circle jerk-off session at fucking the ass crack of dawn,” Ronan interrupts as Adam’s heart beated out of his chest. “That no one listens to!” Noah added excitably, even as Gansey made a disgruntled sound of protests.

“What no, we do have listeners,” Gansey argued, raising his voice over the snickering of his two best friends. Adam wanted to shrivel up and disappear, sweating nervously as his thoughts started to overwhelm him. _ He was right. He was right. He was right. _

_ Ronan is the radio host. _

Gansey tries to talk over his friends as both of them drum loudly on the wooden table. He’s saying something about New Worlds and favours. Adam doesn’t hear him, frozen in place as his heartbeat echoes in both his ears, drowning out the rest of the world.

He turns to Ronan, staring at him with kaleidoscope eyes in disbelief, more mythological than any tapestry or prophecy ever whispered to him sweetly on lonely nights.

“Look, you fucking broke him”

Gansey waves his hand in front of Adam, concern in the crease between his eyebrows. Adam blinks, shifting in his seat further away from Ronan than necessary, the space between them jarring.

Swallowing down the vines crawling up his throat, Adam faked a cough, the tips of his fingers numb and shaking as he picked up his coffee again. He gives Gansey a nervous grin, every nerve in his body singing a choir, “I’m fine,” He reassures, “Tell me more about the king.”

And no matter how hard he tries to pay attention to Gansey’s animated story-telling, Adam can’t help but notice the way Ronan’s eyes keep flickering to him throughout the rest of lunch.

Ronan's become a permanent fixture in his life.

An unmovable object, he was surrounding Adam everywhere constantly. At his shift at Nino's, during lunch breaks stealing his fries, in latin class, throwing crumpled paper balls filled with childish notes and mocking doodles of Whelk. Everywhere he went, Ronan was there with his eyes, _ burning and burning and burning _. Adam’s heart was an ashtray, he lets Ronan ruin his lungs willingly.

Adam didn't want to dislodge him either.

But it was hard to focus when Ronan was around, his attention magnetic towards the other boy. He still had to serve tables and scribble down notes, but in Ronan's orbit, it took twice as much willpower to keep his eyes from wandering away to the curve of the other boy's neck.

For someone so loud, Adam would’ve never guessed how quiet he was alone. When they were isolated from the rest of the universe, in their own little fortress away from meddling eyes, Ronan rarely said a word to Adam, all his conversations silently. A brush of his knuckles, a nudge to his shoes. Adam wanted to coax sentences from his mouth with his tongue.

The only places Ronan hasn't completely desecrated for Adam are his shifts at Boyd's and his tiny church apartment.

Adam caught himself wishing Ronan was at least in his apartment.

Whoever lived in the sky that listened to him doesn’t make Adam wait long to grant him what could either be a blessing or his worst nightmare.

It was after Adam’s shift at Nino’s and they were pressed against the brick wall of the roadside diner. Blue had left before Ronan arrived, giving Adam a coy look just as she started to cycle away. He scowled at her retreating back, running his fingers through his hair as Ronan appeared behind him, shark grin on his lips and McDonalds take away in his arms.

Ronan grabbed Adam by the wrist just as he began to walk towards the BMW. Adam spun around, adjusting the paper hat on his head before it flew away, raising an eyebrow at him. “I need a place to stay this weekend.”

“Why?” Adam mutters, dragging Ronan to sit at the curb beside him. Ronan groaned, like he didn’t expect Adam to interrogate him. The occasional car passes by like migrating birds, Adam stares at the street instead of looking Ronan in the eye.

“Dick’s sister is visiting, I don’t wanna be around _ two _ Ganseys”

“Can’t she afford a hotel?”

“I don’t know and I don’t give a shit”

“Scared you’ll catch cooties?” Adam teased, closing up his throat to trap the butterflies trying to escape. Ronan raised an eyebrow at him, shrugging lazily instead of answering. Adam, who had always been up until recently, a very analytical person, knew better than to offer his already cramped space with a boy that suffocated him just by existing. 

He nods, more to himself, muting the rationality in his head. Ronan’s fidgetting waiting for Adam’s answer, Adam tugs on Ronan’s leather jacket to ground him. “Yeah okay, you can crash at my place.”

“Yeah? Cool”

Ronan twists his head to look at Adam. Adam traps his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly pulling his hand back to his own lap.

“Cool”

Adam did hope the first boy he has in his room was Ronan Lynch. This just wasn’t the way he daydreamed about.

He’s been dreading the weekend for the last three days, stress cleaning up the apartment and rearranging his minimal belongings over and over again. He’s seen Ronan’s room before and the mess of shit stewed on the floor failed to impress him. Adam knew Ronan wouldn’t care if his hamper was full or if there were socks under his bed. It doesn’t stop him from getting his laundry washed earlier than usual regardless.

It was Sunday, Ronan stood at his doorway in a suit pants and a dishevelled shirt that left Adam’s mouth dry, a worn-out duffle bag swung over his shoulder.

“I went for a drive first,” was his only explanation for still being in mass clothes. Adam nodded with his chin to his chest, awkwardly standing around as Ronan let himself in.

Adam nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot as Ronan stood and looked around the tiny apartment. He curled his fists and shoved them into his school trousers pockets, drawing patterns with his toe into the carpet. Ronan shrugged, tossing his bag on the floor despite Adam’s disgruntled protest.

“It’s wack, you’ve been living above my church this whole time.” It was Adam’s turn to shrug as he watched Ronan brush his fingers over the house plants Maura demands he keep above his bed shelf. He stops at the tiny red radio on Adam’s desk, Adam catches Ronan’s wrist and drags him to the dining area.

“Dinner?” Adam mumbles, already reaching for the quickly finishing instant ramen packets he kept above the fridge. He feels the hem of his shirt brush up his torso, ignoring Ronan’s gaze.

Ronan grunts in reply, taking a seat on Adam’s bed as Adam busied himself with the boiling water.

It was strange to have someone else up in his apartment. 

The last time he had Blue over was when she helped him move the desk into his room. The last guest he had was one of the nuns reminding him about the broken heater.

Since moving out, Adam had been alone. And while he loved it, the choice of having his own space he fought for on his own terms, the isolation was unnerving at times. His body was untuned to his surroundings and his heart never considered it home. At any moment, he expected to hear doors slamming open or the quiet sound of his mother’s footsteps. Even alone, far away from the man that bred him against his own will, he held his breath and forced himself to go mute.

It was always worse at night, when everything went dark and Adam was forced to admit his loneliness. Ronan shifted, the springs of his bed made a loud creaking noise as Adam poured the noodles from the hot saucepan into separate bowls from Persephone. His heart sings a little louder, reminding him how he had Ronan’s company once again. This time without the added static or distance.

It terrified him and excited him, the intense nature of his desire scaring him.

Ronan mumbled thanks as he took the steaming bowl from Adam’s hands, cursing as he burnt his tongue. Adam laughs at him, seated with his legs crossed next to Ronan on the bed, close enough that their knees touch. Ronan kicks him lightly in the heel, Adam complains about spilling his broth.

He looks at Ronan from between his eyelashes, Ronan was already staring back, his cheeks just as rudy with the prettiest grin Adam has ever seen on another boy.

Ronan laid on the floor, the sound of him shifting around too loud. Adam clenched his fists into the thin bedsheets, praying his breathing wasn’t audible.

It was a foreign experience, the allowance to exist without apology, and Adam didn't know how to handle it. He wanted to twist himself smaller but knew logically he didn't have to. Ronan chose to be next to Adam, sleep on his floor, keep him company. Adam was a choice instead of an accident, and no matter how much he craved it, Adam didn't know how to act like a choice. Like a person that deserved.

After an awkward ordeal of washing dishes next to each other, sleeves rolled up and elbows playfully nudging into each other, and the much worse changing process of Adam hoping Ronan was looking the other way as he stripped off his pants, it was undoubtedly time for bed.

They tuck in way too late, borderline three am, but early enough for boys their age. Ronan teases Adam for having a sleep schedule. Adam kicks Ronan in the chest as a response, trying his hardest to ignore the fact that Ronan was shirtless in his room.

“Do you ever sleep, Parrish? Or are you some sexy twilight vampire who died in the civil war?”

Adam turned to the edge of his already tiny bed, peering down at Ronan. The other boy stared up, unblinking, face neutral. Adam gulped down his breath back into his convulsing lungs.

“Do _ you _?”

A dangerous grin breaks out on his face. Adam thinks about leaning down just a little more to trap Ronan’s bottom lip in between his teeth.

“Not in a while, Parrish”

Adam feels his body pulsing, the sound of his heartbeat echoing loudly in his deaf ear. He turns onto his left side, smothering the overwhelming sound with his pillowcase. He subtly lets his hand hang over the bed. He feels Ronan’s fingers brush his.

“We could turn on the radio to put you to sleep,” Adam murmured more to his mattress than Ronan, stretching his arm to fetch his ancient radio and turning the dials before getting a reply. Gansey's voice fills the silence and Adam cringes as he changed the channel hastily. Ronan doesn't mention it but Adam can sense how he tenses up, the room suddenly too stuffy and overwhelming. Adam wants to knock himself upside the head for offering Ronan his floor to sleep on.

The song that plays is gentle and slow, a direct opposite of the symphony that was playing in his skull. Ronan fits their knuckles together and huffs, “Can’t you sing a lullaby instead?”

Adam huffed, a short laugh that leaves through his nostrils even as all the blood in his body rushes to his face, “I remember someone asking me the exact same thing.”

The room is silent for a minute but the minute’s too long. His breathing is too loud, he feels like he’s suffocating, drowning in his bedsheets. 

It was torture that Adam wasn’t able to see Ronan’s face, gauge his reaction and make sense of it. But that was the thing with Ronan, he rarely made sense regularly. And the thing about Adam was that he was a coward.

A thumb brushes over Adam’s knuckles, fingers pulling apart the tension in Adam’s hands. Adam was being unmade above a church, the quiet making him curl into himself. Not for the first time, he despised the loud silence that constantly inhabited his apartment.

“And what did you say?” Ronan whispered.

“Now my life is sweet like cinnamon,” Adam muttered back.

Ronan stared up at him, lips parted and eyebrows knitted together. Adam’s grasp on their hands tighten, doubt and confidence tugging at him all at once. He knew who Ronan was. He’s known for long enough to be giddy about it. The last of his restraint dies in him, knowing there wasn’t much to lose.

“_ Like a fuckin dream I’m livin’ in, _ ” it was different now that Ronan was looking at him and Adam’s voice cracks, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He’s missed this, he’s missed Ronan even as they spent every minute of every school day glued to each other’s sides. “ _ Baby love me cause I’m playin’ on the radio _”

The room is too silent and Adam fidgets. Ronan stares at him, his face shifting as the seconds tick by. Adam was embarrassed, exhaling loudly, but regretless. By the time Adam considers apologising, Ronan was forcing Adam to sit right up on his bed.

“Funny, you had more of an accent the last time we talked,” was Ronan’s only response. His voice was steady and bleak but Adam sees the way he’s shivering, holding Adam’s hand tighter until his knuckles were white.

Adam leans down, ears burning in embarrassment. Ronan surges up to capture his lips.

The kiss is soft, a gentle thing. Something awaited. Nothing unexpected, just a burning sensation that’s building up over the weeks, simmering and ready to burst. Adam always knew it would end up like this, rarely doubting he wasn’t going to kiss Ronan at the end of it all. It had always been a matter of _ when _.

But even as Adam waited for them to collide, the real thing was sweeter than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

Ronan slid his arm around Adam’s waist and under the hem of his shirt. Adam tumbles down on top of him, they laugh with their lips still pressed against each other. Ronan huffs, the air knocked out of him as he knotted his free hand into the hair at the base of Adam’s head. Adam grinned in reply, cradling Ronan’s cheek with his legs tangled in the mess of his bedsheets.

When they pull away, Adam’s face hurts from smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He stares openly at the smile on Ronan’s lips, not stopping himself from pecking him on the mouth again.

Ronan rolls his eyes, grabbing Adam by the chin and kissing him on the eyelids, blowing a raspberry like a stubborn child. “That was so overdramatic, you could’ve just told me you’re the caller, loser.”

“I didn’t think I was enough for you”

Ronan’s look softens, their lips meeting again. Adam wanted to melt, untwining his fingers so his hands were free to roam over Ronan’s shoulders. Ronan sighed as he tucked his head against Adam’s chest, a thumb brushing over Adam’s left ear. The bed was empty but they were already getting comfortable on the ground, reluctant to let go. Adam hummed against Ronan’s hairline, drowning with the sudden desire to feel this way forever. Warm and held closely, his heartbeat in sync with a hurricane of a boy.

There’s another kiss to his collarbone as Ronan mumbled, his soft breath brushing over Adam’s neck and setting him on fire. “Don’t be stupid. I always prayed he was you.”

“I won’t,” Adam promised as he tilted Ronan’s chin for one more kiss, his heart doing a strange thing behind his ribcage. The angle is strange and their lips miss entirely, Adam kissing the corner of Ronan’s mouth as he let out an amused huff. His room isn’t cold for the first time and Adam lets himself be consumed by it.

Ronan grunts, telling him to _ ‘fucking sleep, loser _’ under his breath. Adam shakes his head, the nostalgia of hearing it over the last month hitting him at once along with his affection, deciding instantly that he preferred it when Ronan said those words directly in his ear than over the phone. He doesn’t starve himself from kissing Ronan’s temple again, Ronan swats at him in feigned annoyance.

They drift off, curled in each other’s arms and bed sheets tangled around their ankles. Adam stretches to his desk and turns the radio off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this took so long and it isn't up to standard, i've been suffering from writer's block lately lads


End file.
